Not Just A Weapon
by PhoenixRising4310
Summary: On the outside she was the perfect soldier, but inside she was dying. Drowning in her own sea of darkness. It wouldn't be long before the mask broke, revealing the shattered soul beneath. In seven years she never once questioned orders, or disobeyed them. She endured it in silence. Until now... A snippet of whats to come, will include the entire team at a later date :) - Enjoy x
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is my first fanfiction so there may be some mistakes, but I'll try my best to correct them :)**

**I hope you enjoy, feel free to leave a review below x**

**- PhoenixRising.**

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><p>She barely glanced up as her cell door opened, there were few with high enough clearance to enter, so she could guess who might be visiting today. The thump of metal against cement meant only one thing, 'Dad' had come to for his monthly trip to see her. Its seems he finally gathered enough energy to lift his iron ass, off his mighty throne upstairs, and gift her with his presence. Not that she was complaining, the less time she had to listen to his crazy rants of world domination, the better.<p>

"Hello Father, what a lovely surprise." The girl spoke, her voice hoarse and filled with sarcasm, behind him was a woman blindfolded and gagged, "Where is this one from?"

"You tell me" the man said, his voice thick with a German accent. The younger girl sighed, she hated him: she hated his sick, twisted games, but mostly she hated herself for playing them. She took a deep breath and began to analyse the stranger. Natural tan suggests she spends a lot of time outside, smooth palms meaning she didn't do manual labour. Right handed, fingers slightly curved, she had to hold things a lot. No wedding band, low top, high skirt - someone was desperate. Very little bruising, she didn't fight back. Smudged ink and paper cuts; this woman was obviously a reporter.

"Let me guess... A reporter lured here with a false story, you told her if she spoke to anyone she could forget the biggest scoop of her life?" She said smugly,

"Very good, you're learning." He said, more of a statement than praise, "I suppose the better question is whether you can save her? " With that said he lifted his gun and pulled the trigger. The bullet didn't get far, before her vision narrowed, the world slowing and blurring into a series of colours. She reached out with her mind for the vibrating molecules of the projectile and willed them to slow down. It wasn't as easy as it seems in the movies, and she could feel nature resisting her control. Every millisecond was like a minute and each that passed the shot drew nearer its target. Deciding it was a waste of time and energy, this woman was dead as soon as he had laid eyes on her, she released her hold on the object. There was a splatter of blood as the bullet entered the reporters forehead and passed out the back of her skull. There was a thud as the corpse hit the ground followed by a casual,

"Oops,"

like a child who just spilt their milk. Strangers may perceive this reaction as, well, insane but after having lived with a psycho for 17 years, she'd gotten used to it - got bored of it. The man tutted, "Such a waste, Did you even try?" He may have sounded calm but his eyes betrayed how pissed off he was,

" I'm fed up of all your bull, I hate it here, I hate you and I'm not your daughter! " she ranted. The slap echoed in the small cell,

"How dare you speak to me like that, du blöde kuh, I created you, I have trained you, I own you" he shouted breaking into German, " If you have no use to me, then I will get rid of you now!" Once again, he raised his pistol; she was ready. Seconds after pulling the trigger, there was a small plink as the bullet froze in mid-air before being claimed by gravity. A booming laughter rang in her ears,

"Now Scarlett, was that so hard" he said turning to leave,

"No father" she spat back,

"Good my child" he replied ignoring her tone, "Oh and Scarlett, If you EVER do something like that again, I will kill you, do you understand? "

"I do" Scarlett answered submissively, there was a brief silence, followed by the slamming of a door and the sliding of locks. Blood dripped steadily from her nose, an after effect of overusing her 'gift', but her thoughts were on the dead body on the floor. Her death was just another reminder of why she lived. To kill.

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><p>That was seven years ago, she had never forgotten, she could never forget; Photographic memory, it had its pros and cons. She had come a long way since then, she wasn't just slowing things down but speeding them up. So much so, they burst into flames, nothing beats a bit of pyromania here and there. Her skills had been perfected by the best, once she had mastered one skill her teacher was killed by either herself, using their methods or her father. When he believed her capable, she was sent out on missions. It started off small, her father would want something, she would steal it. Then it got bigger, father wants someone dead, she killed them, no questions asked, no feelings involved; it was nothing personal, it was just her job, her purpose. The first few years she was seen as nothing but a nuisance, that didn't last long. Four years in and she was on S.H.I.E.L.D.S most wanted list with over 100 confirmed kills and plenty more suspected. She was feared on both sides of the law, known only through whispers, as a shadow in the night coming for your head. On the outside she was the perfect soldier, but inside she was dying. Drowning in her own sea of darkness. It wouldn't be long before the mask broke, revealing the shattered soul beneath. In seven years she never once questioned orders, or disobeyed them. She endured it in silence.<p>

Until now...


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: This Chapter is longer than the last, let me know which you prefer :)**

**Also, any speech in italics in this chapter is in Russian.**

**I hope you enjoy and feel free to leave a review down below x**

**-PhoenixRising.**

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><p>"The targets name is Alexei Dimitri, his wife and he will be outside the Bolshoi Theatre at eleven, we will be flying over Moscow in thirty minutes." He finished, not needing to explain further; she had her orders, any further information could be found in the manilla folder waiting on the desk in front of her. Picking it up, Scarlett left the room and headed for her quarters. The mission was as simple as an assassination could be: scope out the location, find a vantage point and wait for a time to strike. She was to play the role of a drug addict looking for cash, it wouldn't be the first time. No expected interference, a silenced pistol would do, and wouldn't raise suspicion. Quick and clean.<p>

She landed silently on the building and quickly stripped off her parachute. Manoeuvring with ease across the rooftops, she began to familiarise with the area, making sure she knew all the escape routes if, in the unlikely event that, something went wrong. Intel suggested that Dimitri was entering the theatre from the side alley, not wanting to take a chance, Scarlett chose a perch from which she could monitor the three main entrances of the Bolshoi. And then she waited.

When the time reached eleven oh seven, she became suspicious that the target was not going to turn up. She would give it another three minutes, before calling the mission a bust and leaving for the rendezvous point. Two minutes later and a limo was pulling up at the end of the side alley,

"Попался" Scarlett muttered, putting on her Russian accent. Leaping off the edge, she pulled her grapple at the last second and crouched in the shadows. She could hear their footsteps getting closer; the unique click of high heels, in time with the ungraceful slap of leather dress shoes against the side-walk. Reaching into her pocket she grasped the handle of the pistol, her hand moulded to its shape, as if it was meant for her. She didn't know when the feel of a gun became a natural occurrence, probably about the same time she ran out of emotions. Because that's what she was, a cold, heartless, machine, meant for killing...right? Pushing these thoughts to the back of her mind, she focused on the task before her and submerged herself in the characters persona. Stepping from the shadows, she took in the sight before her: the perfect wife, beautiful, oblivious and completely devoted to her husband, who was dressed in an expensive suit, with money ripped from the lifeless hands of his victims. The cheerful atmosphere evaporated almost instantaneously, both of them coming to a stumbling stop a few feet away. She quickly lifted her gun, aiming it sideways at them like an unexperienced kid, desperate. Her raised arm was shaking uncontrollably, while the hand by her side twitched every so often. Knowing she had their full attention, she continued the charade by putting the barrel to her lips like a finger ordering for silence.

_"D - don't move"_ she commanded, the Russian flowing smoothly, _"I need- I need it!"_ Quietly she began to repeat her words, each time more violently than the last.

_"You need what? Drugs... money?"_ Alexei asked, his voice strained, as if he was trying to sound confident.

_"Yes!"_ Scarlett exclaimed, as if she had just solved a hard riddle,

_"Okay, take it easy"_ Dimitri said, slowly reaching into his jacket and pulling out a black wallet, throwing it to the ground, _"Here, it's yours."_

Instead of reaching down to grab it, Scarlett pointed the gun at his wife, who began to cry louder.

_"The pearls, take them off!"_ When the she didn't respond, Scarlett took a step forward. The wife opened her mouth ready to scream, but was stopped by a bullet to the throat. There was a heavy thud as her body dropped to floor, Alexei stared at it, his face in a constant state of shock. She turned the pistol back to her main target, ready to take the kill shot, when a figure clad in tight black spandex dropped between them. Deciding to stay in character, she took a rushed step backwards and got a better look at the intruder. Recognising the red-headed avenger instantly, she played dumb, letting her opponent think they had the upper hand.

_"Who the hell are you?"_ Scarlett questioned with false bravado,

_"It doesn't matter,"_ Natasha paused and addressed Dimitri _"You should probably run."_

Not willing to lose her target Scarlett moved to the side to get a better aim,

_"Don't move!"_ She ordered Alexei, who in turn quickly froze, not wanting to meet the same fate as his wife.

_"You really don't want to do that"_ Widow stated plainly,

_"You're not the one with the gun"_ Scarlett bragged, her character getting cocky,

_"I don't need one to kill you"_ Natasha commented, her voice firm and serious. Bored with the game they were playing, Scarlett pointed the gun back at Widow. There was a moment in which nothing happened, both assassins assessing the situation, followed by a flurry of action. Natasha struck out, attempting to kick the gun out of her hand, except it was no longer there. Scarlett latched onto the ankle in front of her, twisting and shoving it back, consequently slamming the Widow into the wall. Natasha realised then that she had made a mistake in underestimating her enemy, but not anymore. Spinning around, she barely had time to block a heavy hit to her side, before another was aimed at her head. It was too late, Scarlett had gained the upper hand, forcing Widow on the defensive with her offence. Not long into the fight, Alexei gathered his wit's and began to run back up the alleyway. As a result, Scarlett had the choice of leaving herself open, in order to complete the mission, or she could take down Widow now, and hope she could track down Dimitri later. In picking the latter she would be breaking her assigned cover, which meant 'Dad' would be pissed; there was also the chance she might lose her target, and if that happened, it would be bad, very bad. Knocking Natasha back into the wall, she once again took aim and pulled the trigger. She didn't have to look to see if she killed him, she already knew the answer. Widow didn't miss her opportunity and using the wall to push-off of, struck both feet into the others chest. There was an audible crack as her head connected with brick and Scarlett fought not to black out from the white fiery pain behind her eye's. Not missing a beat, Natasha swung her fist into Scarlett's stomach, getting a satisfying grunt. Forced to switch to the defensive, the blow to her head leaving Scarlett more vulnerable than she'd like to admit. Even so, she blocked and parried most of the incoming assaults, but she needed a game changer. Suddenly dropping to the ground, she feigned a leg swipe only to roll beneath Widow who had jumped to dodge it. Now behind Natasha, Scarlett kicked her knees out and struck her in the temple. Stunned and on the edge of unconsciousness, Widow laid still on the cold cement, breaths coming in short gasps. Not much better could be said for Scarlett, who limped over to the fallen gun. Holding the pistol in one hand, she reached up with the other and turned on her comm.

"You should have been here seven and a half minutes ago, what happened? " The man at the other end enquired impatiently,

"I ran into interference" Scarlett spoke, reverting back to American,

"Who?" He asked,

Scarlett turned to look at her downed opponent, "Black Widow" she answered, there was a brief pause before the German accent replied,

"Interesting... I wonder what interest S.H.I.E.L.D has in Dimitri, he is dead, yes?"

"Him and his wife."

"What of the spider?" He questioned,

"Under control"

"Good, dispose of the Widow and meet me at the rendezvous"

"Understood" Scarlett closed the line and looked down at her fellow assassin. A wave of vertigo unbalanced her and she leant back against the theatre for stability, the adrenaline rush from the fight was wearing off and she could feel every bruise on her body making itself known. Groaning, she let herself slide down the wall until she was sitting on the cold pavement below. She rested the gun against her raised knee, ready if needed, and watched as Natasha pushed herself upright mirroring Scarlett's position.

"If you're going to kill me, you'd best do it now" Widow spoke her eye's unfocused, yet her gaze strong,

"It's nothing personal, just-" She started but was cut off,

"Orders, yeah I've heard that one before" Natasha commented,

"What's that supposed mean?" Scarlett retaliated,

"You don't have to do this, you don't have to do anything, if you don't want to" Widow scoffed,

"You don't know anything about me!" Scarlett exclaimed,

"Maybe not, but I know everyone has a choice" There was a second of silence before a reply,

"Not me"

"So what, you just go around blindly following orders? Don't you care about your victim's? Haven't you ever wonder what they did to deserve death?" Natasha argued angrily,

"Oh, because you're so innocent" Scarlett spat back,

"I'm definitely not the best example, but what about Alexei's wife over there, what did she do to justify your death sentence? " Widow responded,

"She wasn't my target, I..."

"I'm guessing she wasn't the first casualty of your career, at this rate she definitely won't be your last" Natasha interrupted again,

"Enough mind games, it's over" Scarlett finished, standing up,

"Do your worst" Widow antagonized her, stubborn 'till the end. Scarlett lined up her shot, her finger resting on the trigger; why wouldn't she pull it? She had her orders, she'd never questioned them before; why now? She knew what she had to do, but did she have to do it; Did she have a choice? In her the back of her mind, she could that annoying German accent, playing over and over and over again. Although, that could be the concussion.

"Damn it!" Scarlett cursed, before swiftly sending Natasha into oblivion.

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><p>"You're late" the man stated, in the frustratingly, condescending voice he normally did,<p>

"Traffic was hell" she muttered under her breath, either he didn't hear her or had purposefully ignored her,

"Widow?"

"I left her bleeding out, with a bullet through her chest" she answered casually,

"Good." With that her father spun around and left the room. At first Scarlett went through her usual routine, patched herself up, grabbed a snack and headed off to bed. However, as she lay there trying to drift to sleep, the events of today's mission kept replaying in her head. She couldn't figure out why she had hesitated, the motivation behind her decisions just a few hours prior. In reality she knew why, Widow had gotten into her head, prised away her mask until it was hanging on by stubborn strands. She didn't need to plant the seed of doubt, because it was already there, it always had been, hiding in the darkness of her mind; all Widow had done was given it the light, it needed, to grow.


End file.
